


the lies we speak

by khayr



Category: Judge Dredd - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, F/M, angst angst angst, fic swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3759271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khayr/pseuds/khayr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anderson knows this is far from the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the lies we speak

**Author's Note:**

> My half of a fic swap with user fiesa from ff.net! The prompts I was given to work with were "the lies we speak", "all i wanted", and "the mysterious case of the vanishing teacup". I tried to work them all in a little bit in one way or another. Enjoy!

Anderson is fairly positive the sound of his heart breaking is almost audible.   
  
Her fingers are latched into the floor grate above her head and right about now she’s struggling to keep her breathing steady and relaxed. There is water up to her waist, ice cold and slowly rising with each minute that passes by lacking a solution. In the room above Dredd is on his belly working furiously at a latch that seems to be doing its best to thwart him.   
  
“Joe.”   
  
He ignores her for a second time now, his boot knife quivering with the amount of sheer force he’s putting behind it. Beneath the sea of composure he’s managed to smooth his surface thoughts into... he’s on edge. Slow panic that only Academy training and sheer willpower are keeping in check creep slowly into her peripherals.    
  
“ Joe ,” she repeats, relocating where her fingers are latched so she can brush against his forearm, “Breathe.” All of her own bravado doesn't change the fact that she's hopelessly trapped in here and he's out there and dear  grud the water is so, so cold.   
  


"I've got it," he grunts, unable to hide the strain in his voice, "You're not dying in here." He's rapidly running out of time and the boot knife just isn't doing it. Anderson feels his mind race for an alternative solution and senses the iron determination when he's made a decision. "Can you get to your respirator?"    
  


"I can't believe you're even suggesting this," she grumbles. The water surges against her and she almost loses her grip. At this point it's sloshing against her ribs and has chilled her down to her core. "If I reach for it I'm falling."    
  


Without second thought his free hand is in his bag, fishing the device out in mere moments. Carefully he slides it through the gap in the bars, making sure she has it firmly between her teeth before he lets it go.   
  


Dredd releases his grip on the grate as she adjusts the respirator in her mouth, Lawgiver already drawn and ready. He takes several calculated steps back to the entrance of the room before speaking again.   
  


"High-ex."    
  


There's the familiar sound of the ammo whirring into place, but the water is sloshing into the collar of her flak vest and suddenly she's out of time. She shoots him a mental ready check and releases her hold on the grate. Instantly she's dragged into the icy current, limbs screaming with exertion and feeling all too much like tiny needles pricking against her skin. Something feels like hands on her throat, although she desperately hopes it's just her imagination.    
  


If the current of incoming water wasn't enough already, the force of impact from the shell above the surface certainly was. Anderson focuses just on breathing through the respirator and not her nose, hands seeking out something solid to grasp onto... but there's nothing, nothing but open, freezing water and the terrifying fear that she actually might not get out of this one.   
  


Someone- no, of course it's Dredd- suddenly grabs her by the elbow and hauls her out with an incredible amount of strength. For a moment her feet kick as they struggle to find purchase on what's left of the floor, but finally she's up and out and gripping her partner's shoulder like it was the last thing rooting her to solid ground. For all she cared it might have been.   
  


"I've got it," she gasps after spitting his respirator onto the floor, "The riddle." Dredd doesn't seem quite as thrilled with her revelation, but she feels relief settling in his chest and he even allows her to sag against him to catch her breath. Her hair is sticking to her cheeks and neck and she realizes exactly how uncomfortable wet leather actually is.   
  


"Couldn't have figured that out before you set off the trap?"    
  


"Nah," she pushes her dripping hair out of her eyes and bumps her forehead to his chest before trying to pull herself to her feet. "Not quite as exciting that way." Again Dredd feels less than amused with her, but his mindscape is still a little bit of a mess as it tries to quash the idea of his life sans Judge Anderson. He's doing a good job of covering it up though... so she decides to cut him some slack this time around. The iron control slips back into place once she's upright and collecting her discarded Lawgiver from across the room. On her way past, Anderson toes a crumpled body against the wall with her boot; she doesn't sense anything in his mind anymore but a little poke certainly doesn't hurt. She's definitely seen stranger things.   
  


Tense quiet settles between them as they exit, trudging up the rickety flights of stairs they had come barreling down barely twenty minutes ago. Next time, Anderson muses, they should probably check for traps instead of rushing in. Dredd is already arranging a resyk crew to clean up the mess left behind.    
  


A soft niggling in the back of her head alerts her to his wandering train of thought. She focuses on this so she can ignore the wet squelch of her boots and the water dripping down her back.   
  


"Something on your mind?" The feeling disappears as he realizes she's noticed, although the tightening of his jaw gives him away anyway. To her, he reads like an open book whether she uses her ability or not.   
  


"Nothing." The low grunt of a reply indicates a discussion he'd rather not pursue. Whether it was just a  be more careful next time  or not, she'll never know. He's one of the few she doesn't probe unless given permission. "What was the answer?"   
  


It's a cop-out question, she knows; this way he can sweep whatever is bothering him under the rug and pretend it's strictly business here, pretend the pain in his heart a few minutes ago was really nothing at all.   
  


Anderson knows this is far from the truth.   
  


"Teacup." She gets the mental feel of Dredd rolling his eyes behind his visor. Such a mundane answer for a riddle that almost cost her her life. They cross the door frame back out onto the street and for a moment Anderson has to let her eyes adjust to the bright sunlight. Dredd leads the way back around to where they left their Lawmasters parked side by side.    
  


"We'll call it so you can get some dry gear," he continues, passing the incoming crew from the meat wagon without a second glance, "Can run a double tomorrow to make up lost time."   
  


"Don't let me get in the way of you finishing the shift," she cuts in, raising an eyebrow, "You don't have to pull extra time just for my sake." Dredd only grunts in reply, his eyes not meeting hers. He feels like cooling embers when she sweeps her mind over his, still burning but refusing to light again. He's struggling with something, but she knows pressing the matter will get her nowhere with him.   
  


"It's fine."   
  


This, she knows, is not the truth.


End file.
